Six Weeks
by sabotouri
Summary: When McCoy was finally sick enough to see a doctor, it was too late.
1. Chapter 1

When McCoy was finally sick enough to see a doctor, it was too late.

"How long?" McCoy grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest and scowling. Dr. Petang sighed and thought for a minute.

"Six months, maybe seven and that's with radical chemo-"

"I don't want chemo," McCoy said, sneering. "Dammit Brick, I'm a doctor, you think I don't know what chemo does to your body?"

"Six to eight weeks then," Dr. Petang said, reaching out to pat McCoy's shoulder before thinking better of it. "We can manage your pain if you want."

McCoy was already climbing off the table and pulling his tunic back on. "I have rounds."

"Leonard, you can't practice medicine anymore, not in your condition-"

"I'm the Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise, like hell I can't prac-"

"You're not listening to me, Leonard. You've lost sixty pounds in the last year, your hands shake so bad your signature is unintelligible, your vision is going to shit, and you're anemic. McCoy, you're dying and the last thing you need to be doing is taking care of patients right now."

"So what am I supposed to do?" McCoy shouted, turning sharply. If Brick Petang didn't know his colleague better, he would have thought there was a hint of desperation in his voice. "Just sit around and wait to die?"

"You should go home and see your kid," Dr. Petang said gently. McCoy bristled; even as sick as he was, he was pretty sure Jocelyn wouldn't let him see Joanna. "Whatever you decide to do, you need to tell… someone."

The sentence hung in the air heavily; they both knew he meant Jim.

"Thank you, Brick."

"Leonard?" McCoy hesitated at the door but did not turn around. "I truly am sorry."

"I hate space."

* * *

"If we can sustain maximum warp, we can be there in ten days," Kirk said to Sulu, who nodded. "Replace the core once we get to Provis, collect any survivors and-"

"Jim, I need to talk to you."

Kirk and Sulu looked up, surprised to see McCoy standing there. He was off-duty and would normally be either asleep or unconscious by now. Kirk signaled one second to him and turned back to the coordinates he was pouring over with Sulu.

"Now!" McCoy shouted. Kirk jumped and exchanged a glance with Sulu.

"I'll be right back," he said, following McCoy into the hallway. "What's going on?"

"I'm dying, Jim," McCoy said, his voice low. Kirk stared at him as if he had just told him he was becoming a go-go dancer. "Six to eight weeks."

"I-"

"Gamma cancer. It's in my… bones."

Kirk said nothing before turning and walking back on to the bridge. He sat down with Sulu and picked up the coordinates, rolling them up and shoving them in the pocket next to his chair.

"Captain-"

"Keep her steady, Sulu. I have something to deal with, I'll be back in a little while."

Kirk walked back out into the hallway where McCoy was still standing and grabbed him by the upper arm, dragging him all the way back to his quarters. He keyed in the entry code and pushed Bones inside, not even waiting for the door to close before losing it.

"Take it back," he shouted, taking two steps towards McCoy. The doctor scowled.

"You think I'm kidding?"

"No, I think you're serious as a fucking heart attack. Why the hell am I just hearing about this?"

"I just found out, Jim-"

"Bullshit!" Kirk cried. His face was reddened, his head pounding. "You look like you're starving to death, you've been in pain for eight months, you fucking knew. Why didn't you tell me? Six weeks? That's a goddamn cop out, Bones. How could you do this to me?"

"To you? Nothing is happening to you!" McCoy shouted back and thought for a second that Jim was going to hit him. "You'll be fine when this is over."

"Fine? You think I'll be fine?" Kirk asked, his eyebrows raised. "You're my best friend, Bones-"

"You fuck all your best friends?"

"Just the lucky ones," Kirk shot back, setting his jaw. "If you think I hadn't noticed, you're insane. Shit Leonard, I knew you were sick, Sulu mentioned how sickly you're looking. What's your waist now, twenty-eight? You're a damn doctor, you knew something was wrong, why didn't you get help?"

"Chemo is hard, Jim, it can be worse than cancer-"

"BUT IT WOULD HAVE GIVEN YOU A CHANCE!" Kirk bellowed, beginning to sound crazed. "Six more months, another year! Why not take it? How could you do this to Joanna? To me? I love you, how am I supposed to do anything without you?"

The angry lump in Kirk's throat swelled as tears rose in his eyes. He felt foolish, knew he was being dramatic and didn't care. McCoy sighed and sat down on the bed, running his hands over his gaunt face.

"I didn't want to spend whatever time I had left hooked up to machines and drugs. I got eight months of normalcy," McCoy said, unable to look Kirk in the eye.

"But if I had known, I would have… we could have done things differently. I wasted so much time, Bones, if I had known-"

"You would have treated me like a Faberge egg the entire time. Under normal circumstances, you would have knocked me out by now, don't deny it. You would have. You're looking at me like I'm going to drop dead this second, for Christ's sake. And you'll be fine without me. You've never told me you loved me before, why start now? Jesus Jim, nothing has to change because of this. I'd rather nothing changed because of this. And I don't want people to know."

Kirk mouthed wordlessly, angry tears still wetting his cheeks, before scrubbing his face with his hands and turning to leave.

"Jim, I-"

"I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Jim-"

"You should sleep. I'll be back in a few hours."

It seemed like the longest walk of his life to the bridge. Slumping down in his chair, the change in Kirk's demeanor was stark and obvious.

"Captain, are you alright?" Uhura asked. Kirk nodded without looking at her, though she could tell he'd been crying.

"Status report, Mr. Sulu?"

"All's well, sir."

"Good."


	2. Chapter 2

When Kirk returned to his quarters that night, he was pleasantly surprised to find McCoy passed out in bed. He was asleep on his back, arm thrown over his eyes, which pulled his shirt up from his waist. Where there used to be soft skin and cords of muscle, there were now protruding hipbones and very visible veins. Kirk sat down on the floor and pulled his boots and socks off, tossing them into the corner.

Tugging his shirt off over his head, Kirk slipped into bed, his back to McCoy, and closed his eyes, like he was actually going to be able to fall asleep. He listened to McCoy's steady breathing and had actually begun to feel drowsy when McCoy turned over and draped an arm over Kirk's middle.

"You're back late," he grumbled, sliding up flush with Kirk. Kirk sighed.

"I was busy. I had super secret cancer diagnosis's to receive. Very important."

"Boy, I have half a mind to beat the living sin out of you pretty much every second we're together."

"Yeah, I don't think that'd be a fair fight right now, Glass Jaw," Kirk said, turning over to face his partner. He moved to place a hand on McCoy's face, but was swatted away. "What, I can't even touch you now?"

"You don't stroke my face," McCoy said, screwing his mouth up. "We don't cuddle and you don't love me. This is ridiculous, Jim."

Kirk was tired of listening to it. He slid his hand under the side of McCoy's head and pulled him in close. He threaded his fingers through McCoy's hair, thinning and graying, and kissed him with such eagerness that McCoy practically died right there.

Kirk rolled onto his back, pulling Bones on top of him, twisting their legs together. It was the most desperate he had ever felt, as if he didn't demonstrate how he feeling right now, he'd lose the chance forever.

McCoy lost his shirt and for the first time, Kirk felt like he was handling with care someone he had once fucked against a wall so the window had cracked. McCoy's ribs rippled under his skin, hard and stark against his back. His spine stuck out, ridged like a mountain range and as Kirk ran his hand down the slope of his back, he counted every bone on the way.

The sob that he had tried to choke back escaped, as he curled his fingers into McCoy's hair, kissing his temple, his jaw, his shoulder, his neck. Unashamed tears spilled down his face, wetting his chest and in turn, McCoy's.

Instead of fighting him, McCoy just sighed and nestled his head into the crook of Jim's neck.

"It's okay," he shushed, kissing Kirk's neck gently and fighting to keep his eyes open. "It's really okay."

Kirk shook his head, his cries soundless as they racked his whole body. It was the realest pain, most helpless he had ever felt, like he was trying to hold sand between his hands.

McCoy rolled onto his back and pulled Kirk onto his chest. Kirk could tell by the pounding of his heart that the movement had required more strength than he had to give. This only made him sob harder.

"Bones," he choked, twisting his fingers around McCoy's forearms. "Please…"

"I don't know what you think I can do, Jim," he said gently, holding Kirk closer.

"Accept the treatment, please-"

"Chemotherapy would kill me now, Jim. My heart couldn't take it and neither could my kidneys. I'd be dead in a week."

Kirk cried harder, his stomach tightening. He was going to be sick soon, he knew it, but there was nothing he could do to calm himself down. He'd only cried this hard two other times in his life; when his grandfather died and on his twenty first birthday, when his mother wouldn't get out of bed for her grief. Now, faced with the almost sure loss of his best friend and his… he couldn't think of the proper word for what they were.

By the time he stopped crying long enough to form a complete sentence, McCoy had fallen asleep, still clutching Jim tightly. For now, that would have to be good enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Kirk awoke to sound of McCoy retching. Disoriented in the dark and still drowsy from sleep, he stumbled out of bed and padded into the bathroom, yawning and rubbing his eyes. McCoy was hunched over, heaving and gasping for breath.

Kirk crouched next to him, placing a gentle hand on his back, causing McCoy to jump. He leaned forward, cradling his head in his arms, unable to stop vomiting. Kirk sighed.

"You need to go to medical and see a doctor," he said softly, running his fingers over McCoy's now slim shoulders. His partner shook his head and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

"I _am_ a doctor, Jim," he coughed, leaning back against the door. The circles under his eyes were dark and deep and every cough pulled his skin tight across his chest. "Besides, all they'll do is giving me Nubane, Zofran and send me to bed. I can do that for myself."

"So why haven't you?" Kirk asked, closing the toilet lid and wetting a rag in the sink. "Lean forward."

McCoy obliged, too tired to argue. Kirk laid the warm rag across McCoy's neck and sat down next to him.

"If I go on a painkiller, I'd become a zombie," McCoy grumbled. His bare chest was flecked with goose bumps and thumb shaped bruises; for this, Kirk felt guilty. In his despair, he hadn't been able to get close enough, even once they were _that _close. He had clung to McCoy like a life raft.

"Isn't not being in pain worth it though?" Kirk asked, knowing the answer already. McCoy glared at him.

"You think if it was worth it I wouldn't already be on everything they could give me? I'd like to die with a little dignity, Jim. Not that this is particularly dignified, mind you-"

"Alright, I'm sorry," Kirk interrupted. "Come on, let's get back in bed."

He stood first and was almost back to bed when he noticed McCoy was still sitting on the floor of the bathroom. He turned around and was about to ask him what was wrong when McCoy sighed.

"I can't walk. Too tired."

For the first time, but not for the last, Jim Kirk picked up his partner handily and carried him to bed, McCoy complaining the entire way that he felt ridiculous.

* * *

"I need to talk to you," Kirk said as he passed Spock in a low voice. Sulu nodded, passing directions to Chekov to take the helm for a minute. He followed Kirk into the airlock.

"Captain?"

"At ease, Sulu. This is personal."

"What's going on?" he asked, leaning against the wall. Kirk sighed.

"Bones is dying," he said. Sulu raised his eyebrows.

"How?"

"Cancer. He's refusing treatment. Six weeks, maybe, but after last night, I think that might be generous."

Sulu said nothing for a long minute, his eyes cast down in thought and perhaps prayer.

"Jim, I'm sorry. I truly am," he said, resting a hand on Kirk's shoulder. "Has he told anyone else?"

"No. His attending physician knows and me. He doesn't want anyone to know."

"Well, it's not exactly a secret," Sulu shrugged. "He looks terrible, has for a while. When he was able to stand behind Pavel and hide, I knew something was wrong."

Jim smiled a little.

"He has kids, no?" Sulu asked, shifting his weight and crossing his arms. Jim nodded.

"One, a daughter. She's a teenager."

"He should be home with her, not on this ship," Sulu said, realizing too late that he had inadvertently hurt Kirk's feelings. "I'm sor-"

"No, it's fine, you're right. Go back to work, I'll be along shortly. Don't let Spock get too comfortable in there."

Sulu nodded, squeezing Kirk's shoulder and heading back out.

Kirk leaned back against the glass and closed his eyes. He felt like time was speeding up and there was nothing he could do about it.

Nothing.


End file.
